


Hardest of Hearts

by katiebour



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Angst, Drunkenness, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Love Triangle, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-25
Updated: 2011-04-25
Packaged: 2017-10-20 18:27:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/215802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katiebour/pseuds/katiebour
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fenris' leaving devastates Hawke, and she goes on a self-destructive bender, to the concern of her friends.  Anders is there to pick up the pieces.  Fenris realizes his mistake- but by then, it's too late.  Based loosely on the song "Hardest of Hearts" by Florence + the Machine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hardest of Hearts

**Author's Note:**

> A fill for the Dragon Age kinkmeme, based on the song "Hardest of Hearts" by Florence + the Machine.
> 
> And in case you couldn't tell, I love the scent of people. It's one of my main kinks, hehe.
> 
> And Fenris smells like leather a) because his metal armor is padded with leather and b) because it's sexy.

Kit threw back the shot of rotgut with a grimace, then took a wobbly bow to the cheers of the other patrons. She was drunk, yes, but not drunk enough. She could still feel his gaze burning into her back like emerald green fire, coursing through her veins like the sweetest of wines or the cruelest of cuts. She motioned to Corff for another shot as Isabela sidled over to the bar.

"Sweets, don't you think you've had enough? We'll have to carry you home at this rate, you know." 'Bela's tone was light, but the look on her face betrayed her concern. It was no secret that something had happened between Hawke and Fenris three weeks ago, and Kit had been drinking to nigh insensibility almost every night since then. Fenris had been conspicuously absent until tonight.

Fenris watched the smooth, tanned column of Kit's throat as she tossed back yet another shot, Varric's words from earlier that afternoon branded in his mind:

 _"Look, Broody, it's not my place to interfere. But I've never seen her this bad, ever. She's barely eating or sleeping, and she's drinking herself unconscious every night. Just say something to her."_

He watched her now, keenly aware of the change in her from the vibrant, energetic, forceful woman he'd made love with three weeks earlier. Kit had dark circles under her eyes, and despite the massive amounts of alcohol she was drinking, her robes hung on her frame like rags on a scarecrow. Fenris didn't know what to say, or how to say it- the words stuck in his throat.

Kit scowled at Isabela. "No, 'Bela, I haven' had nearly enough to drink," she slurred, "because 'm still awake. Jus' pour me inna cot inna back, 'k?" She fought with her belt, fingers fumbling drunkenly with the catch on her coin purse. She dropped it in Isabela's hand with an audible _clink,_ then turned back to Corff. "Can I jus' have the bottle, Corffie?"

Corff shrugged- he'd seen people on benders before, and in his experience, they only stopped drinking when they wanted to. Far better for Hawke to pass out here, than to venture into the city looking for drink in her state. He handed her the bottle and made a neat mark on her tab.

Kit poured herself another drink, spilling a fair amount on the bar itself, then stared at the amber liquid moodily. "Fuckit," she said, and turned with exaggerated grace to the table where Fenris and Varric sat. Her eyes met his, angry gold meeting impassive green, and she raised her glass to him. "To you, my love," she sneered, then gulped the shot down.

*************************************************************************

Some of the whiskey dribbled down her chin and neck as Kit set the glass down. She watched as Fenris' eyes followed the the droplets trailing down the enticingly open collar of her mage-robes. Kit caught the droplets at her collarbone with her index finger and swept her fingers back up the trail, slowly, bringing her finger to her mouth, lapping at the whiskey with her tongue. Fenris' eyes darkened, flicked to hers, and she laughed harshly.

Kit grabbed the bottle and turned to Isabela. "Get me that room, darlin'? I'm off t'bed, just me and m'bottle." She stalked through the common room, ignoring Fenris, then walked carefully up the steps and into the hallway. Varric and Isabela winced as a door slammed, loudly.

"Way to go, Broody," Varric said in disgust. Fenris looked away, a muscle working his cheek. "Varric- I can't-" he began in a low voice, then stood abruptly. Isabela caught him in a smooth stride and grabbed his tunic in one hand. "Don't you dare leave it like this," she hissed, "She needs you." Fenris grabbed her wrist in his hand, squeezing until she squeaked and let go, his eyes afire at last with anger. "Don't presume to interfere, Isabela," he said, tightly. "You understand nothing." He dropped her wrist abruptly and stalked out into the night.

Isabela sighed in frustration as Varric frowned. "Well, _that_ worked like a charm, didn't it," she said sarcastically.

Varric stood up and handed Isabela a few coins. "Take care of my tab for me, Rivaini- I'm going to see Blondie." He slung Bianca on his back and strolled out into the night.

Isabela shook her head and asked the air at large, "Who died and made me the moneychanger?" She then walked over to Corff to settle all of their tabs.

*****************************************************************************

Kit woke to the sound of a warm, smooth voice, the clipped consonants clearly identifying the speaker as Fereldan. "Wake up, sweetheart."

Kit groaned as the light hit her eyes, a thousand suns exploding silently in her head. She felt a hand smooth over her forehead, and the pain began to fade as she felt a familiar magic course through her.

"Anders?" she groaned, groggily. "Whas' wrong?"

Even as the agonizing headache lessened, the nausea subsiding, she felt his hand idly stroke a few strands of hair away from her face. "What's wrong," he replied, carefully, "Is that you've nearly bested a record set by my friend Oghren for the longest consecutive drinking bout ever."

Kit turned on her side away from him, uncomfortably aware that she hadn't bathed recently and that her mouth tasted indescribably awful. "Wha' time is't?" she mumbled.

"About three hours past sunrise," he replied cheerfully. She remained stubbornly mute. Anders continued- "Actually, I came here hoping that you could lend me a hand. We've got an epidemic of cholera running through Darktown at the moment, and I could use some help."

Kit licked her dry lips, and replied truthfully, "Anders, I think… 'm still drunk."

He slid an arm underneath her shoulders and helped her sit up. "Yes, I think you are. Why don't we see what we can do about that, and then perhaps you can come help me in the clinic?"

Kit opened her eyes as she sat on edge of the raised pallet, blinked a few times, then glanced over at Anders. He smiled at her, gently, and a stray ray of sunshine shone through the dirty window, highlighting his roughly cut red-gold hair.

She brushed an idle lock of her short, dark hair out of her eyes, and met his sympathetic brown eyes. "Why are you here?" she asked.

"Because you need me, sweetheart," he answered, softly, then turned as Edwina brought a tray into the room. She set the tray on the table next to the bed, and Kit nearly moaned as the smell of fresh herbal tea wafted through the room. She suddenly realized she hadn't eaten in days, and as she looked at the freshly buttered bread and cut fruit, her stomach rumbled loudly.

Anders laughed and said, "Why don't you get started on that, and I'll arrange for a bath to be brought." Kit nodded, closing her eyes in ecstasy at the taste of the warm bread and luscious butter. As she licked an errant drip of butter from the web of her fingers, she heard Anders make an odd little noise from the doorway. Kit opened her eyes to see him watching her. His cheeks pinkened slightly as their eyes met, and he turned and hastily left the room.

As she was finishing the bread and starting on the fruit, he returned with a small bundle. "I had Isabela fetch you a change of clothes from Hightown earlier," Anders said as he set the bundle on the bed, "and they'll bring the bath shortly. I'll be back for you in about an hour."

He left the room, and close on his heels were two lads with a large, empty copper tub. As Kit finished eating and drank her tea, they toted in pails of hot water and filled the tub, setting a washcloth and a bar of soap next to the tub. She stood up, noting that her coin purse sat on top of the bundle of clothes, and pulled a few silvers for each lad from the purse.

Once they left she pulled off her dirty robes and lowered herself in the tub with a sigh. The hot water soaked away the last of her headache, and as she washed, Kit realized that she felt alive again for the first time in weeks.

*****************************************************************************

Kit walked with Anders through the tunnels connecting Lowtown to Darktown. As they approached Darktown, he turned to her, and asked, "Have you ever treated cholera before?"

Kit shook her head. "I've only ever heard about it from my uncle- apparently it ran through the city several decades ago?"

Anders nodded. "It seems to spread through water; if we can stop the spread in Darktown, perhaps we can keep it from reaching the rest of Kirkwall."

He continued, "Careful here, we had a bit of a cave-in a few days ago." Anders ducked under a low beam and stepped carefully through the rubble, then turned and offered her a hand. Kit put her palm in his and let him balance her as she stepped around the largest of the rocks.

"I don't know how you can bear to live down here- the thought of being buried under a rockslide would terrify me." Kit looked over and noted that his lips tightened slightly.

"To be honest, the thought of being buried under a cave-in terrifies me too," he admitted. "But my patients are here, and apparently the templars don't seem to like Darktown much either."

Kit tripped over a small outcropping and let out a small _eek_ as she fell against Anders' chest. He caught and steadied her, and as her cheek rested against him she caught his scent, a deep, musky aroma with hints of astringent herbs and the dry, dusty bite of feathers.

 _Fenris smells like leather and wine and warm skin-_

She stopped that line of thought with a silent snarl and focused on regaining her feet. With Anders' help, she managed to navigate the last of the debris and stepped into Darktown proper.

Anders released her hand and turned to her. "Before we go any further, I should warn you- this won't be pretty. I asked Isabela to bring your oldest robes for a reason."

Kit looked at him as he continued, "Healing can only do so much. We can speed the progression of the disease, but what they really need is a constant supply of fluids. I'll need you to keep a supply of the mixture and help them to drink. We'll have another bath at the end of the day- we'll need it."

As they stepped in the clinic, Kit saw quickly that Anders had not been exaggerating. There were perhaps fifteen people in the clinic, resting in cots that had circles of cloth cut out and buckets underneath. She gagged slightly at the smell, glad that breakfast had been several hours ago.

"The fluids pass through them so quickly, and in the early stages they vomit constantly. If we don't get more fluids in their bodies, they'll die," he said, quietly.

Anders brought her over to a pot where water was boiling, and where several bags of salt and sugar sat on a table. "Once the water's boiled for five minutes, mix in the sugar and salt, then cool it," he said, taking the pot carefully off the fire and adding the ingredients. He concentrated, and as she watched, she felt his magic pour over the pot, cooling the contents immediately.

Kit shivered at the flow of his magic along her skin as Anders set the pot on the table. He ladled some of the mix into a bowl with a flared lip, then put the bowl in her hands and pushed her gently towards a groaning patient. "Give them as much of the mixture as they can drink, then move on to the next one." She nodded, then looked up as he said, quietly, "Thank you for being here."

Kit watched as he moved to the first patient, comforting the moaning woman with words and a gentle touch, the soft blue glow of healing magic flowing like a gentle wave as he concentrated.

 _Thank you, Anders_ , Kit thought, and lifted the head of her first patient, helping him to drink.

****************************************************************************

Several weeks later-

Fenris sat in his mansion, the dying embers from the fireplace providing scant light. He held an open, mostly empty bottle of the Agreggio loosely in one hand, the other hand idly picking at the peeling label. The cool glass of the bottle felt smooth, comforting in his hand, his head lightly buzzing as the wine set in. He ignored the faint ache of the half-healed flesh underneath his marks- that pain was familiar, welcome. It grounded him firmly in reality.

It was only when magic flowed, when the current of latent or active magic spilled over him that the marks burned, each nerve ending aflame with a sensation too sharp to be named as pleasure or pain. It could go either way, really, he mused, driving the sensation of a wound into the realm of unbearable agony, or enhancing a caress, a touch into a pinpoint of aching pleasure.

Fenris closed his eyes, the memory of that night rising unbidden in his mind:

"So you're just going to leave?" _She'd demanded, angrily, her hand on his forearm. The frisson of her latent magic had spread across him like a potent drug, and the unexpected, exquisite touch had set his marks aflame with their eerie blue glow. He had pushed her back, against the wall, teeth gritted, caught in a web of feeling he couldn't articulate, anger, desire coursing through him._

 _He had paused, then, the glow of his marks fading, the only sound in the hall the sound of their mingled breaths. His heart had pounded in his chest, and he could see her pulse jumping in her throat. He'd wanted to taste that, to set his lips and teeth in her neck, to mark her, own her. She'd pushed back, suddenly, and as her lips found his he gasped in surprise._

 _She'd pushed him against the wall then, and he'd surrendered, his arms around her, pulling her body tightly to him as she'd ravaged him with lips and tongue and teeth._

 _She'd broken the kiss long enough to gasp,_ "Upstairs," _and grabbing his hand she'd pulled him up to her room, closing the door and setting the lock. She'd turned to see him watching her, eyes unreadable as he'd unbuckled a gauntlet. He set the gauntlet on the table, and while she watched, his delicate hand, palm and fingers traced in lyrium had unbuckled the other. Once the gauntlets were removed he reached over his shoulder and unclasped his feathered shoulders. The decorative feathers hid metal pauldrons, lined in leather like the rest of his armor. The pauldrons clinked against the gauntlets as he laid them on her table. The shoulders also disguised the vertical strapping of his chestplate. He undid the vertical buckles and then reached under an arm and unclasped the horizontal buckle._

 _She'd chuckled slightly and said,_ "That must be a pain to put on by yourself." _He'd shrugged, afraid to speak, afraid that with a word the spell would break and she'd tell him to leave. Once the armor was off he stood before her, clad only in his tunic and breeches. She'd smoothed a hand over his tunic, and with a slight tremor had begun to unfasten the toggles on his tunic, starting at the bottom. When she reached the top toggle, the worn silk tunic slid off him like water, and he'd watched her breath stutter as her hands traced his skin._

 _As her fingers ran over him, tracing the thin lines of lyrium that accented his musculature, he'd been unable to hold back a soft moan. He'd grabbed her wrists then, to halt the sweet torture, and captured her lips with his. When he'd released her, she'd ran her hands up his back, pulled him close to her as his lips had skimmed her jaw. He had smelled her soft, feminine scent, flowers, perhaps, or soap, and underneath it the deeper tang of her skin._

 _He'd licked her neck, then opened his mouth, tongue against her flesh as his teeth had nipped, tasting the salt and scent of her. He sucked, firmly, his tongue stroking the soft flesh as she'd cried out, bending her neck to give him better access. He'd wanted more, wanted the feel of her skin against his, and had broken the suction, lapping gently, brushing his lower lip against her skin before breaking contact._

 _He'd tugged at her belt and said roughly,_ "Take it off." _She'd smiled then, and with deft hands unbuckled her belt, letting it drop to the floor. She'd shrugged off her jacket, then unbuttoned her shirt just enough to draw it over her head. She'd sat on the bed and removed her boots, then stood and stepped out of her skirt. He had hardened further, if it was possible, at the sight of her, clad only in her breastband and the small triangle of fabric that covered her sex._

 _He'd pulled her tightly against him, the evidence of his desire hard against her stomach, and kissed her breathless. The next few moments had been full of fumbling need as he pulled her breastband over her head and she'd tugged his breeches down over his hips. He'd stepped out of his breeches, watching her mouth curve upwards when she realized he wore no smalls at all. She'd pulled off that last tiny bit of fabric and they'd tumbled onto the bed, skin against skin, markings to magic, her fingers in his hair as his lips traveled down her body._

 _He had wanted to taste all of her, his lips trailing down her collarbone, to her breast, and as his mouth had closed over her nipple he'd heard her strangled cry. She'd buried her hands in his hair and whispered, "Oh, Fenris, yes," and he'd tasted and suckled and nibbled from one breast to the other._

 _She'd pushed him back, impatient with his explorations, and as his eyes met hers she'd taken him in hand. He'd cried out, throbbing against her hand as she'd squeezed, and then she began a rhythm with her hand that had him gripping the blankets in nameless need. After what seemed an eternity of pleasure she slowed, and with a last caress straddled him. He could feel her warm and wet on top of him, and then she'd shifted, her hand guiding him inside that warm, tight wetness._

 _He'd nearly bitten through his lip as she'd pressed his hands to the bed on either side of his head, and proceeded to ride him, rocking back and forth, grinding her hips against his. When she released his hands, he'd gripped her smooth, rounded buttocks, caressing her as she moved. Their moans and cries had mingled, and he'd hovered on that delicious edge of sensation, his hands on the soft flesh of her rear as he'd thrust from beneath her, mouth buried in her neck, her body bent over him. Suddenly she'd convulsed over him, her hips grinding desperately into him as her tight sheath vised around his length. He'd bitten her shoulder, muffling his cries against her skin as he came, and it was better than anything he could have imagined, ever._

 _**********************************************************************************_

 _As their heartbeats had slowed, she'd disengaged from him, and with a smile and a kiss had cuddled up to his left. He'd had no words for her, no way to describe or thank her- no words could describe the experience adequately. She relaxed against him, her breathing becoming even and regular, and he'd drifted off to sleep with her warm by his side, as they'd done so many times before-_

His eyes had snapped open and he'd let out a low, strangled cry as the entirety of his life rushed back, a formless void filled suddenly with unbelievable color. For a single, shining moment, faces, voices, experiences opened before him, and he grasped at them, weak with shock. I remember-

 _And then, like an icy splash of water, the memories had retreated. What had been full to brimming was searingly empty, the voices, the faces fading as he'd clawed after them, screaming, begging in his head as they'd vanished._

 _The sense of loss was unbearable, and he'd keened quietly, knees drawn up in a near-fetal position. It had happened so suddenly, so unexpectedly- gaining and losing everything he'd ever wanted in a single, shining second._

 _Behind him Kit stirred and muttered, deeply asleep, and reached out for him. He'd hated her in that moment, as she slept so peacefully, blissfully unaware of what she'd evoked in him. Slowly, he calmed himself, slowing his breathing and heartbeat. He felt as though he'd been shredded to ribbons, bleeding and bare. So he'd done the only thing he could think of- he'd run. He'd crept out of bed, away from her warm arms and kisses and body and Maker-be-damned memories and pulled his clothes on. With a speed borne of years of practice, he'd pulled his armor on, buckling everything smoothly into place._

 _The armor calmed him, the familiar weight protecting him. He'd sheathed his broadsword in his baldric, cursing the jingle of the harness. Kit had awoken to find him fully dressed and armed._

 _He'd heard the hurt in her voice, and cursed himself. He'd tried to reassure her, to explain, but the words tangled as his throat closed, wanting to howl his loss to the night. She'd pleaded with him, offered to help him, but the need to run had grown stronger and stronger. He had to get away before he broke in front of her, before the weak, fearful slave inside crawled back and begged her to help him, to love him, to save him. He stalked out, shoulders hunched in absolute misery. Better for her to hate him than to pity him, to see what he truly was, inside._

With a start, Fenris became aware of the firelight, the Agreggio in his hand, and with a curse he threw the empty bottle against the wall with all the force he could muster. He'd been wrong, so completely wrong. The words that he'd held back trembled on his lips, Maker, he wanted to tell her, but it was too late, now. He put his head in his hands, the unsaid words the bitterest taste on his lips.

**********************************************************************************

Six months later-

Fenris walked up to the clinic door in Darktown, his heartbeat speeding with anticipation. He knew Kit was working with the Abomination today, taking care of the rash of colds afflicting the denizens of Darktown. He looked down at his gauntlets, flexing the articulated fingers as he gathered his thoughts.

He hadn't seen her for several months after that night, but he'd heard from Isabela and Varric that she was feeling better, helping in the Darktown clinic and taking mercenary work again. He'd nearly visited her estate half a dozen times, on one pretext or another, but as he'd neared her door he'd always veered off again. _What if she hates me?_

Then one morning a knock had come, and suddenly, there she was, in his house, his room, vital and beautiful and courageous. She'd smiled at him, given him a book, offered him reading lessons. His calm voice belied the excitement in his gut, the pleasure he took in her company. They'd spent many an afternoon reading together, grinning like fools at each other as he'd learned to string together letters, taking pride in his newfound skill and joy in each other's company. She'd asked him along on the mercenary jobs she took, again.

Today, he'd gathered the courage to talk to her about that night. He'd explain the memories, tell her that he missed her, cared for her, needed her. As his gauntleted hand pushed the door slightly open, he heard Kit and the Abomination speaking:

"What are you doing?" Kit asked Anders curiously, as he rose to his feet, dusting off his hands.

"Putting out milk," he replied with a smile, I miss having a cat around. But I think the refugees have scared them all off…" He scowled slightly, "Or maybe eaten them."

Anders turned to her, an earnest look in his eyes, and said, "You know, I've been meaning to thank you. Having someone like you making a name for yourself in Kirkwall- it's done a lot for mages." He paused, smiling at her, and said, "You're the kind of leader we need- to tell the world we won't be punished any longer for our Maker-given gifts."

As Fenris watched her face through the slightly open door, he saw her expression change. She glanced down, shyly, then back up. Her next words hit him like a punch to the gut.

"I don't care about the politics, Anders, I just don't want to see the templars lock you up."

Fenris swallowed hard as Anders stepped closer to Kit. "I've tried to hold back," he said, softly, "You saw what I almost did to that girl; you've seen what I am."

Anders looked at Kit with quiet intensity in his eyes. "But I'm still a man, sweetheart. You can't tease me like this and expect me to resist forever."

Kit looked at him, and taking a deep breath, said, "I don't want you to resist, Anders."

He stepped forward, and before she could say another word, Anders pulled her close. He brushed his lips across hers, and then, with a soft moan, deepened the kiss. Kit clung to Anders' coat as her lips parted, his tongue lapping at her, his lower lip sliding over hers, breath mingling. He pulled back, looked into her eyes, then bent in and captured her lips again as she wrapped her arms around him. When he pulled away again, they were both panting, Kit's eyes half-closed in pleasure and need. She gave out a small cry of dismay as he lifted his lips from hers, and then a soft sigh as he buried his face in her neck. "This will be a disaster," he whispered to her, "but I can't live without it." He kissed her neck, lightly, then pulled back to look at her face.

"Sweetheart," Anders said, softly, "Are you sure you want me here? I thought you and Fenris…" A look of sadness crossed her face, and he stilled.

Kit looked at Anders and replied, "Fenris is gone; there is nothing more between us." She looked down. "He left me, you see." She smiled crookedly. "I guess trying to set a record for the longest consecutive drinking bout wasn't the best way to react."

Anders brushed a stray lock of hair to the side of her face as she smiled up at him. "Thank you for being there when I needed you. I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't been there to snap me out of it."

Anders laid a kiss on her temple, and said gently, "I'm sorry he hurt you." His lips quirked slightly as he continued, "Well, that's not entirely true. I can't be sorry if he led you to me."

********************************************************************************

Fenris turned and walked away. He had heard enough.


End file.
